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PARTICULAR ACCOU 



OF 



THE DREADFUL 



At Richmond, Virginia, 



December 26, 1811. 

Which destroyed the Theatre and the house uljoining, 
• and in which more than sixty persons were either 
% burnt to death, or destroyed in attempt- 
ing to make their escape. 



To which h added, 

I 

Some Observations on Theatrical Performances ; and, an 
Essay from the Virginia Argus, proving profaneness 
inconsistent with politeness. 



Believe, and shew the reason of a man ! 

Believe, and look with triumph on the Utn3n m *~Tamg> 



BALTIMORE: 

Printed for and sold by J. Kingston, and all the Bool; 
sellers Si the United. States. 



R. W? iwcr, & co.ffrintevs. 

1812. 






. 






Gift 
7 $ '« 



0' ^r/ , r 



/"/ >Z^S Cj^^&£+^}0&<fr4***Syi-' 



Advertisement, 



THE alarming catastrophe which hap- 
pened at Richmond, Virginia, having excited 
very much interest and feeling throughout the 
United States, it is judged proper to collect all 
the accounts into this form, that they may be 
the better preserved and the more easily con- 
sulted. 

The observations on theatrical performan- 
ces are mostly taken from authors, ancient and 
modern, of the greatest celebrity; and it is 
hoped that none, but those whose minds are 
made up never to amend, can seriously read 
this important pamphlet without being greatly 
instructed; that this may be the case is the ar- 
dent desire of 

The Publisher. 
Baltimore, Jan. 7, 1812. 



BURNING 

OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE, 

December 26, 1811. 



THE dreadful calamity which visited this city on 
the ever- memorable night of Thursday, the 26th of 
December, 1811, will not for years be effaced from the 
recollection of its sorrowing citizens. From Friday 
morning till this day, by universal consent, almost every 
house in the place has remained shut, the dejected in- 
habitants have suspended their usual occupations, ail 
awful gloom has pervaded the countenances of all, and 
the oulj tbiog thought of, or spoken of, is the melancholy 
story of our griefs. 

The editor of this paper was not a spectator of the 
horrors of that night, having left the city early in the 
evening. But he has since heard, seen, and felt, what 
his utmost powers of description do not enable him to 
convey to the readers of this paper. 

The subsequent afflicting narratives are extracted 
from the Enquirer, and the American Standard of Sa- 
turday last, and are the productions of the editors of 
those papers. They were eye-witnesses of the awful 
secne, and have described it much better than we could. 

[Argus, Dec. 30. 
FROM THE ENQUIRER. 

OVERWHELMING CALAMITY. 

IN the whole course of our existence, we have 
never taken our pen under a deeper gloom than we feel 
at this moment. It falls to our lot to record one of the 



most distressing scenes which can happen in the whole 
circle of human ;ifl;iirs. The reader must excuse the 
incoherence of (he narrative, there is scarce a dry eye 
in this distracted city. Weep, my fellow citizens, for 
we have seen a night of woe, which scarce any eye had 
seen or ear hath heard, and no tongue can adequately 
tell. 

How can we descrihe the scene! No pen can paint 
it; no imagination can conceive it. A whole Theatre 
wrapt in flames — a gay and animated assejnhly suddenly 
thrown on the very verge of the grave — many of tlinn, 
oh! how many! precipitated in a moment into eternity — 
youth, and beauty, and old age, and genius overw helmed, 
in one promiscuous ruin — shrieks, groans, and human 
agony in every shape — this is the heart rending scene 
that we are called upon to describe. We sink under the 
effort. Reader excuse our feelings, for they are the 
feelings of a whole city. 

Let us collect our ideas a« wo.11 «« wo Mn. On 
Thursday night a new play and a new after-piece were 
played for the benefit of 31 r. Placide. Crowds swarmed 
to the Theatre — it was the fullest house this season — 
there were not less than six hundred present. The play 
went off—the pantonine began — the first act was over. 
The whole scene was before us — and all around us was 
mirth and festivity. Oh God! what a horrible revolu- 
tion did one minute produce! The curtain rose on the 
2d act of the pantonine — the orchestra was in full cho- 
rus; and Mr. West came on to open the scene — when 
sparks of fire began to fall on the back part of the stage, 
and Mr. Robertson came out in unutterable distress, 
waved his hand to the ceiling, and uttered these appal- 
ling words—" The house is on fire." His hand was im- 
mediately stretched forth to the persons in the stage-box, 
to help then) on the stage, and aid their retreat in that 
direction. This is all that wc caught of the stage— the 
cry of fit*! jlrel passed with electric velocity through 
the house — every one flew from their seats to gain the 
lobbies and stairs. 



The scene baffles all description. The most bean 
piercing cries pervaded the house. •' Save me. save me." 
Wives asking for their husbands, females and children 
shrieking, while the gathering element came rolling on 
its curling flames and columns of smoke — threatening to 
devour every human being in the building. Many were 
trod under foot. — several were thrown back from the 
windows which they were struggling to leap. The stair- 
ways were immediately blocked up — the throng was so 
great that many were raised several feet over the heads 
of the rest — the smoke threatened an instant suffocation. 
We cannot dwell on this picture. We saw— we felt it — 
like others, we gave ourselves up for lost — we cannot 
depict it. Many leaped from the windows of the first 
story, and were saved — children and females, and men 
of all descriptions were seen to precipitate themselves on 
the ground below — most of these escaped, though se- 
veral of them with broken legs and thighs, and hideous 
contusions. Most, if not all, who were in the pit escaped, 
Mr. Taylor, the last of the musicians who quitted the or- 
chestra, finding his retreat by the back way cut of, leapt 
into the pit whence he entered the semicircular avenue 
which leads to the door of the Theatre, and found it 
nearly empty. He was the last that escaped from the 
pit! how melancholy that many who were in the boxes 
did not also jump into the pit, and fly in the same direc- 
tion. But those who were in the boxes, above and 
below, pushed for the lobbies — many, as has been said, 
eseaped through the windows — but the most of them had 
no other resource than to descend the stairs, many esca- 
ped in that way — but so great was the pressure that they 
retarded one another; until the devouring element ap- 
proached to sweep them into eternity. Several who even 
emerged from the building, were so much scorched that 
they have since perished — some even jumped from the 
second window — some others have been dreadfully burnt. 
The fire flew with a rapidity, almost beyond exam- 
ple. Within ten minutes after it caught? the whole house 



8 

was wrapt in flames — The coloured people in the gallery, 
most of them escaped through the stairs cut oft* from th« 
vest of the house, some have no doubt fallen victims. 
The pit and boxes had but one common avenue — through 
which the whole crowd escaped, save those only who 
leaped through the windows. 

But the scene which ensued — it is impossible to paint. 
Women with dishevelled hair; fathers and mothers 
shrieking out for their children, husbands for their wives, 
brothers for their sisters, filled the whole area on the 
outside of the building. A few who had escaped, plunged 
again into the flames to save some dear object of their 
regard — and they perished ! ! The governor perhaps 
shared this melancholy fate. Others were frantic, and 
would have rushed to destruction, but for the hand of a 
friend. The bells tolled. Almost the whole town rushed 
to the fatal spot. 

The flame must have been caught to the scenery from 
some light behind — Robertson saw it when it was no lon- 
ger than his arm— Young saw it on the roof when it first, 
burst through. Every article of the Theatre was consum- 
ed j as well as the dwelling house next to it. But what is 
wealth in comparison of the valuable lives which have 
gone for ever? The whole town is shrouded in woe. 
Heads of families extinguished for ever — many and many 
is the house in which a chasm has been made that caw 
never be filled up. We cannot dwell on this picture — 
but look at the catalogue of the victims, and then con- 
ceive the calamity which has fallen upon us— we idfcsr 
drop the pen — when we have time to collect a more par- 
ticular account, we shall give it hereafter. Oh misera- 
ble night of woe ! ! 

> 

TROM TIIE AMERICAN STANDARD. 

MOST DREADFUL CALAMITF. 

LAST night the play-house in this city was crowded 
with an unusual audience. There could not have been 



iess than six hundred persons in the house. Just before 
the conclusion of the play the scenery caught fire, ami 
in a few minutes the whole building was wrapt in flames. 
It is already ascertained that sixty-one persons were de- 
voured by that most terrific element. The editor of 
this paper was in the house when the ever to be remem- 
bered deplorable accident occurred. He is informed 
that the scenery took fire in the back part of the house, 
by the raising of a chandelier : that the boy, who was 
ordered by some of the players to raise it, stated that if 
he did so the scenery would take fire, when he was com- 
manded in a peremptory manner, to hoist it. The boy 
obeyed, and the fire was instantly communicated to the 
scenery. He gave the alarm in the rear of the stage, 
and requested some of the attendants to cut the cords by 
which these combustible materials were suspended.... 
The person, whose duty it was to perform this business, 
became panic-struck, and sought his own safety. This 
unfortunately happened at a time when one of the per- 
formers was playing near the orchestra, and the greatest 
part of the stage, with its horrid danger, was obscured 
from the audience by a curtain. The flames spread 
with almost the rapidity of lightning ; and the fire fall- 
ing from the ceiling upon the performer, was the first 
notice which the people had of their danger. Even 
then, many supposed it to be a part of the play, and were 
for a little while restrained from flight, by a cry from 
the stage that there was no danger. The performers 
and their attendants, in vain endeavoured to tear down 
the scenery. The fire flashed into every part of the house 
with a rapidity, horrible and astonishing; and, alas! 
Gushing tears and unspeakable anguish deprive me of 
utterance. No tongue can tell, no pen or pencil can de- 
scribe the woeful catastrophe: no person who was not 
present, can form any idea of this unexampled scene of 
human distress. The editor, having none of his family 
with him, and beii»g not far from the door, was among 
the first, who escaped. 

B 



10 

]\o words can express his horror, when, on turning 

round, he discovered the whole building in flames 

There was but one door for the greatest part of the 
audience to pass through. Men, women, and children 
were pressing upon each other, while the flames were 
seizing upon those behind. The editor went to the dif- 
ferent windows, which were not very high, and implored, 
his fellow creatures to save their lives by jumping out 
of them. Those nearest to the windows, ignorant of 
their great danger, were afraid to leap down, while* these 
behind them were seen catching on tire, and writhing in 
the greatest agonies of pain and distress. At length, those 
behind, urged by the pressing flames, pushed those out 
who were nearest to the windows; and people of every 
description began to fall, one upon another, some with 
their clothes on lire; some half roasted. Oh wretched 
me! Oh afflicted people! Would to God I could have 
died a thousand deaths in any shape, could individual 
suffering have purchased the safety of my friends, my 
benefactors, and those whom I loved. #####:*.###,# 
The editor, with the assistance of others, caught several 
of those whom he had begged to leap from the windows. 
One lady jumped out when all her clothes were on fire: 
he tore them, burning, from her; stripped her of her last 
rags, and protecting her nakedness with his coat, carried 
her from the lire. Fathers and mothers were deploring 
the loss of their children ; children the loss of their pa- 
vents. — Husbands were heard to lament their lost com- 
panions ; wives were bemoaning their burnt husbands. 
The people were seen wringing their hands, beating 
their heads and breasts, and those who had secured 
themselves seemed to suffer greater torments than those 
who were enveloped in ilames. 

Oh distracting memory! Who that saw this, can 
think of it again and yet retain his senses. Do I dream? 
No. No. Oh that it were but a dream. My God ! who 
that saw his friends and dearest connexions devoured 
by fire, and laying in heaps at the doors, will not regret 



11 



chat he ever lived to see such a sight? Could savages 
have seen this memorable event, it would soften even 
their hearts. A sad gloom pervades this place, and 
every countenance is cast down to the earth. The loss 
of an hundred thousand friends in the field of battle 
could not toueh the heart like this. Enough. — Imagine 
what cannot be described. The most distant and im- 
placable enemy, and the most savage barbarians will 
condole our unhappy lot. 

All of those who were in the pit escaped, and had 
cleared themselves from the house before those who 
were in the boxes could get down; and the door was, 
for some time, empty. Those from above were pushing 
each other down the steps, when the hindmost might 
have got out by leaning into the pit. A gentleman and 
lady, who otherwise would have perished, had their 
lives saved by being providentially thrown from the 
second boxes. There would not have been the least 
difficulty in descending from the first boxes into the pit. 



^RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY THE EXECUTIVE ON SATUR 
DAY, DECEMBER 28, 1811. 

Resolved unanimously, that in testimony of the pro- 
found sorrow which, as individuals and members of this 
body, we feel for the loss of our much lamented friend 
and fellow citizen, George William Smith, late go- 
vernor of this Commonwealth, and which in common 
with the afflicted people of this city, we feel for the loss 
of those other worthy and meritorious citizens who fell 
a sacrifice to the flames, in the late conflagration of the 
Theatre ; and that as a tribute of the very high respect 
which we entertain for his and tlu-ir memory, we will 
for the space of thirty days wear crape <m our left arms. 

Resolved also, that agreeably to an arrangement 
proposed by the committee appointed by the Common 



12 



Hall of this city to superintend the interment of such 
of the remains of the unfortunate sufferers as have been 
saved, avc will join the funeral procession. 
Extract from the Minutes. 

(Attest,) "Wm. Robertson, 

Clerk of the Council. 



AN ORDINANCE, 

Concerning the conflagration of the Theatre in the city 
of Richmond; passed at 11 o'clock, Lee. 27, 1811. 

Whereas, the tire which took place in the Theatre, 
on the 26th instant has brought upon our city a calamity 
Unknown in the annals of our country, from a similar 
cause, depriving society of many of its most esteemed 
and valuable members, and inflicting upon the survivors, 
pangs the most poignant and afflicting ; and the Common 
Hall, participating of those feelings, and being desirous 
of manifesting their respect for the remains which have 
been preserved from the conflagration, and to soothe and 
allay, as much as in them lies, the grief of the friends 
and relations of the deceased. 

Be it therefore ordained by the president and Com- 
mon Council of the City of Richmond, in Common Hall 
assembled; And it is hereby ordained by the authority 
of the same; that Dr. Adams, Mr. W. Hay, Mr. Ral- 
ston and Mr. Gamble, be and they are hereby authorised 
and empowered to cause to be collected and deposited in 
such urns, coffins, or other suitable enclosures, as they 
may approve, all the remains of persons, who have suf- 
fered, which shall not be claimed by the relatives, and 
cause the same to be removed to the public burying 
ground, with ail proper respect and solemnity, giving to 
the citizens of^lichmond, and town of Manchester, no- 
tice of the time of such interment and providing the 
necessary refreshments — and they shall have further 



authority to eause to be erected over such remains, such 
tomb or tombs, as they may approve, with such inscrip- 
tions as to them may appear best calculated to record the 
melancholy and afflicting event. 

And be it further ordained by the authority of the 
same, that the constable of this city be authorised to 
communicate to the citizens, that it is earnestly recom- 
mended that they will abstain from all business, keeping 
their shops, stores, compting houses and offices shut for 
forty-eight hours from the passing of this ordinance. 

And be it further ordained, that no person or persons 
shall be permitted for and during the term of four months 
from the passage hereof to exhibit any public show or 
spectacle, or open any public dancing assembly within 
this city, uuder the penalty of six dollars and sixty-six 
cents for every hour the same shall be exhibited. 

The commissioners appointed by this ordinance, shall 
have authority to draw upon the chamberlain for the 
amount of any expense by them incurred in executing 
the same. 

CCopy.J N. SHEPPARD, c. c. ir. 



At a numerous meeting of the citizens of Richmond, 
Manchester, and others, convened at the capitol on Fri- 
day, the 27th instant. — The mayor of the city in the 
chair. — The following preamble and resolutions were 
moved and unanimously adopted. 

The city having been visited by a calamity, the most 
distressing with which society can be afflicted, which has 
deprived us of many of our most valuable citizens, per- 
vaded every family, and rendered our whole town one 
deep and gloomy scene of woe ; the extent of which at 
this time cannot be accurately ascertained. 

Resolved therefore, that three proper persons in 
each ward be appointed to go round and procure the 
most accurate information of the names and numbers of 



14. 



inch of our citizens, and others, who have fallen a sacri- 
fice by the burning of the Theatre last evening, and that 
some persons in Manchester be requested to perform the 
same service in that town ; and that they make report 
thereof to the mayor. 

And the following persons were appointed, viz : in 
Jefferson ward., William Rowlett, Joseph A. Myers, and 
Samuel Pleasants; in Madison ward, Jedediah Allen, 
Robert M'Kim, and Robert Pollard ; in Monroe ward, 
Thomas Taylor, Anderson Barrett, and Thomas Ruther- 
ford ; and in Manchester, William Fenwick, Mr. Clark, 
and Mr. A. Freeland. 

Resolved, That it be recommended to the citizens of 
Richmond to observe Wednesday next, [Jan. 1, 1812.] 
as a day of humiliation and prayer in consequence of the 
late melancholy event, and to suspend, on that day, their 
usual occupations. 

Resolved, That the committee appointed by the Com- 
mon Hall, to collect the remains of the deceased be also 
requested to regulate the time and order of the funeral 
procession. 

Resolved, That the members of the Legislature, the 
Executive, and the Judiciary branches be respectfully 
requested to attend on this melancholy occasion. 

Resolved, That the Reverend Mr. John Buchanan 
and Mr. John Blair, be requested to prepare a funeral 
sermon for the occasion, to be delivered by one of ther.i 
on Wednesday next in the church on Richmond Hill. 

Resolved, That the citizens of Richmond be requested 
to wear crape for one month, in token of the deep sense 
universally entertained of this severe visitation. 

Resolved, That the inhabitants of this city and town 
of Manchester, be respectfully requested, and such 
strangers as may wish to join in this melancholy occa- 
sion be most cheerfully permitted, to contribute towards 
the monument to be erected over the deceased in aid of 
Ihe public funds to be contributed by the corporation. 

Resolved, That a committee consisting of the follow- 



15 

ing gentlemen, viz : Gen. John Marshall, Thomas Tay- 
lor, Joseph Marx, William Fenwick, and Benjamin 
Hatcher, he appointed to receive contributions, and to 
make such arrangements, in concert with a committee 
from the Common Hall, as may be necessary for erect- 
ing a monument designated by an ordinance passed this 
day. 

Resolved, That although this meeting have no reasons 
whateve/ to believe that this melancholy catastrophe has 
been produced by design, a committee consisting of Tho- 
mas Ritchie, William Marshall, and Samuel G. Adams, 
be appointed to inquire into its causes for the purpose of 
submitting this statement for the information of the 
world. 

And then the meeting adjourned. 

BENJAMIN TATE, mayor. 



The committee appointed by the meeting of the citi- 
zens of Richmond this day, to ascertain the number of 
the unfortunate persons who perished by the burning of 
the Theatre on Thursday evening last, have according 
to order, proceeded in the discharge of that melan- 
choly duty, and lament exceedingly that they have dis- 
covered the loss greatly to exceed the number which was 
at first apprehended, and beg leave to submit the follow- 
ing list of those who are dead and missing, as the mos,> 
accurate which they have been enabled to discover. 

A LIST OF DEAD AND MISSING. 

Jefferson ward: — George W. Smith, Sophia Trouin, 
Cecilia Trouin, daughters of Mr. Trouin, Joseph Ja- 
cobs, Elizabeth Jacobs, his daughter, Cyprian Marks, 
wife of Mordecai Marks, Charlotte Raphael, daughter, 
of Solomon Raphael, Adeline Bausman, daughter of Mr. 
Bailsman, Ana Craig, daughter of Mrs. Adam Craig) 



16 

Thomas Nultal, a earpenter, Pleasant, a mulatto woman 
belonging to Mr. William Rose, Nancy Patterson, wo- 
man ol' colour supposed to have perished. 

Madison wan!: — Abraham 15. Vcnahlc, president of 
the hank, William Southgate. son of Wright, Benja- 
min Botts and wife, Arianna Hunter, Mary Whitlock, 
Juliana Harvey, Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Girardin and child, 
Mrs. Robert Greenhow, Mrs. Moss, Baraeh Judah's 
child, Mrs. Lesslie, Edward Wanton, a youth, George 
Dixon, a youth, William Brown, Mrs. Patterson, John 
Welsh, a stranger, nephew to sir A. Pigot late from 
England, Margaret Copland, Margaret Anderson, Sally 
Gatcwood, Mary Clay, Lucy Gawthmey, Louisa Mayo, 
Mrs. Gerard, Mrs. Gibson, Miss Green, Mary Davis, 
Thomas Frazier, a youth, Jane Wade, a young woman, 
Mrs. AVilliam Coak and daughter, Elizabeth Stevenson, 
of Spottsylvania, Mrs. Convert and child, Patsey Griffin, 
Fanny Golf, a woman of colour, Betsey Johnson, a wo- 
man of colour, free, Philadelphia, (missing). 

Monroe ward: — Mrs. Tayloc Braxton, Mrs. Eliza- 
beth Page, Mrs. Jerrod, James Waldon, Miss Elliot, 
from New Kent, Mrs. Gallego, Miss Conyers, Lieut. 
James Gibbon, Mrs. Thomas Wilson, Miss Maria Nel- 
son, Miss Mary Page, Mrs. Laforest. 

The committee of arrangement appointed by the 
Common Hall of this city, believing that no one place of 
worship will be found large enough to accommodate all 
those who may chusc to unite in devotion on Wednesday 
next, take the liberty to recommend that divine service 
be performed at all lhe places of public worship within 
the city, at 11 o'clock on the before mentioned day. 

The articles of jewellery found amongst the ruins of 
the Theatre have been deposited with Dr. John Adams, 
to be delivered to the relatives of the deceased when 
called for. 

December 30, 181.1. 



w 



A TREMENDOUS CONFLAGRATION. 

IT is impossible to describe our feelings on a perusal 
»f the following heart-rending intelligence from Rich- 
mond, Virginia. It seldom falls to the lot of any to wit- 
ness or hear of a calamity so terrible — so appalling! But, 
it is the will of an over-ruling Providence, whose ways 
are mysterious, thus to chastise a sinful people with the 
most terrific visitations. — Let the mourning city of Rich- 
mond prove a useful warning to the thoughtless ! — What a 
scene of distress is here presented — fathers and mothers, 
sisters and brothers, all buried in the ruins of a burning 
Theatre ! The governor of the state — the leading cha- 
racters of the place — the gayest and most fashionable— 
^hose promised in marriage— all, all enveloped in one 
common heap of fired ruins ! The idea is insupport- 
able ! [JV. ¥. Pap. 

Extract of a Letter from Richmond, dated December 27. 

(i Last night, about 11 o'clock, the play-house of this 
city was burnt to the ground in half an hour : — It is said 
by a lamp in the upper scenery of the stage, and the 
flames spreading like lightning. Upwards of 600 people 
were in the house at the time, 70 or 80 of whom are al- 
ready ascertained to be burned to death, or killed in en- 
deavouring to get out of the house, and we fear many 
more are buried in the ruins. The cries of the dying 
mother, the screams of the frantie daughter, the frenzy 
of the expiring son, and the distraction of the husband, 
were more than enough to draw forth the sympathy of 
an adamantine heart. — ^Vlany burnt and wounded are now 
languishing between life and death. 

Another letter, says «* I will not attempt to describe 
to you one of the most distressing scenes that ever hap- 
pened in Richmond — further than to state, that, while 
acting the after piece of " Raymond and \ gnes," Iasf 

c 



is 

Slight, between the hours of 11 and 12 o'clock, the flames 
burst from above on the stage. Six or seven hundred 
people were in the house. Myself and family are all 
dafe. But how shall J tell you of the misery spread over 
the city. Let the names of some of the victims, witk 
whom you are acquainted, paint it to your imagination. 

** Mrs. Picket is much burnt. Dr. M'Caw is violently 
hurt. Many are now occupied in digging among (he 
rains* for the remains of the unfortunate victims. What 
eights ! — not more than parts of two or three bodies will 
it be possible to identify, and that only by trinkets, &c. 
The bank is closed, every shop is shut, and every coun- 
tenance full of woe." 

Another letter states, that "at least 150 persons, of 
all descriptions, lost their lives. ,, Some suppose the 
number of 300, including the maimed; the latter may 
not be far from the truth. So suddenly was the house 
enveloped in flames, that two thirds of the number pre- 
sent, it is supposed, perished in them. — Mr. Richards, 
Mr. Page, and several others had a leg broken, by leap- 
ing from the windows, or by being trodden under foot. — 
Nearly all in the upper galleries perished. Sixty or 
eighty skeletons have been dug out of the ruins — not 
more than one or two have been recognized. 

" A meeting at the capitol has been held. — The 
bones, not recognized, will be interred together. &c. A. 
monument, by subscript ion, will be raised over them. — 
A day of humiliation and prayer recommended on Wed- 
nesday next. Long, long, will the citizens of Richmond 
bewail this melancholy event." 

Another letter observes, " The fire happened on Mr. 
Placide's benefit night — the house was crowded, and the 
burst of the flames was so instantaneous, that very few 
of the ladies in the upper boxes were saved. One gen- 
tleman in those boxes escaped almost miraculously : he 
was sitting with two small girls and a boy when the fire 
was discovered. The boy leaped from the window and 
(fseaped unhurt. Tke gentleman to»k the two girls, on* 



19 

under each arm, resolved on exertions, and flew with, 
them to the stair case, jamming them between his breast 
and the people before him, striving to keep himself 
straight, but in vain : the pressure from behind, and 
those leaping over head, overpowered him. — He was bent 
down with the children in his arms, and from that time 
he knew nothing of what passed 'till several hours after- 
wards he came to his senses and found himself in his own 
bed. — He must have been wedged up so as to be forced 
along unconsciously by the mass, as he was picked up at 
some distance from the play-house. — The children es- 
caped with but little hurt. — The wife of this gentleman,, 
who was in another part of the house, saved herself by 
leaping out of a window, in company with a young lady, 
who perished in the attempt. A case which excites sin- 
gular sympathy, is that of young Lieut. Gibbon of the 
navy. — He had got clear from the house, and saved hia 
mother's life with his own, but finding that Miss Con- 
yers was left behind, he rushed into the blazing building 
in search of her, and was never seen more : both perish- 
•d in the flames. 

Another letter says, " the burst of flames was instan- 
taneous, and required the immediate exercise of resolu- 
tion. A gentleman who had two helpless little girls ami 
a boy of 12 years of age under his protection, in the se- 
cond tier of boxes, seized the two least capable of exer- 
tion, with a view of saving them, happily with success. 
The little boy dropt from the window, and miraculously 
escaped unhurt. The gentleman reached the stair-case 
with his interesting charge, but the pressure behind, 
and those leaping over his head, overpowered him. He 
sunk with the children under his arms, and with them 
was providentially released from their perilous situation, 
by being carried with the current of the crowd out of 
the house in a state of insanity ; from which he reco- 
vered to be blessed with the sight of the objects of his 
tender care, in perfect safety. — One house adjoining the 
Theatre was burnt," 



so 



i'lie folUm-ing, from a gentleman in Hichmond to M. 
Clay. esq. a rejri'esentath'e from Virginia, give* an* 
impressive account of the dreadful catastrophe. 

" Sir, I have a talc of horror to tell ; prepare to 
hear of (he most awful calamity that ever plunged a 
whole city into affliction. — Yes, all Richmond is in 
tears : — children have lost their parents, parents have 
lost their children. Yesterday a beloved daughter glad- 
dened my heart with her innocent smiles ; to-day she is 

in heaven ! God gave her to me, and God yes, it has 

pleased Almighty God to take her from me. O! sir, 
feel for me, and not for me only; arm yourself with 
fortitude, whilst I discharge the mournful duty of tell- 
ing you that you have to feel also for yourself. Yes, 
foe it must be told, you also were the father of an 
amiable daughter, now, like my beloved child, gone to 
join her mother in heaven. 

How can words represent what one night, one hour 
of unutterable horror, has done to overwhelm a hundred 
families with grief and despair. — No, sir, impossible.... 
My eyes beheld last night what no tongue, no pen cau 
describe — horrors that language has no terms to re- 
present. 

Last night we were all at the Theatre ,• every family 
in Richmond, or, at least, a very large proportion of 
them, was" there — the house was uncommonly full — 
when, dreadful to relate, the scenery took fire, spread 
vapidly above, ascending in volumes of flame and smoke 
in<o the upper part of the building, whence a moment 
after, it descended to force a passage through the pit 
and boxes. In two minutes the whole audience were 
enveloped in hot scorehing smoke and flame. The 
fights were all extinguished by the black and smother- 
ing vapour : cries, shrieks, confusion, and despair suc- 
ceeded. O moment of inexpressible horror! Nothing, 
I say, can paint I lie awful, shocking, maddening scene. 
Tho images of both my dear children were before m«, 



21 

but I was removed by an impassable erowd, From th« 
dear sufferers. The youngest, (with gratitude to heaven 
I write it), sprang towards the voice of her papa, reach- 
ed my assisting hand, and was extricated from the over- 
whelming mass that soon choked the passage by the 
stairs: but no efforts ciuld avail me to reach, or even 
gain sight of the other; and my dear, dear Margaret, 
and your sweet Mary, with her companions, Miss 
Gwathmey and Miss Gate wood, passed together and 
at once into a happier world. Judge my feelings by 
your own, when I found that neither they nor my be- 
loved sister appeared upon the stairs. First one, and 
then another and another I helped down ; hoping, everj 
moment to seize the hand of my dear child; — but no,, 
no, I was not destined to have that happiness. O to see 
so many amiable helpless females trying to stretch 
to me their imploring hands, crying "save me, sirj 
Oh, sir, save me, save me!" Oh God, eternity cannot 
banish that spectacle of horror from my recollection. 
Some friendly unknown hand dragged me from the 
Scene of flames and death ; and on gaining the open air, 
to my infinite consolation, I found my sister had thrown 
herself from the upper window and was saved — yes, 
thanks be to God, saved where fifty others in a similar 
attempt, broke their necks, or were crushed to death 
by those who fell on them from the same height. 

Oh, sir, you have no idea of the general consterna- 
tion, — the universal grief that pervades this city; but 
why do I speak of that ? I scarcely know what I write to 
you. Farewel. — -In haste, and in deep affliction." 



Extract of a Letter from a Gentleman in Richmond, to 
his friend in Philadelphia. 
i{ The Citizens have purchased the lot of ground on 
which the Theatre stood, for the purpose of erecting a 
CHURCH in its place, and more than two thousand 
dollars have already been subscribed for that pious pur- 



pose.'' The writer adds that among the number, who to 
awfully perished, there were not six of the poorer «la«£ 
of people. 



REPORT 

Of the Committee of Investigation, appointed by the Mayor 
and Council of Richmond. 

We, the committee, appointed by our fellow citizens 
to inquire into the causes of the melancholy catastro- 
phe which took place in this city on Thursday night 
last ; a catastrophe, which has spread a gloom over a 
whole city, and filled every eye with tears ; have given 
to this melancholy duty all the attention in our power.— 
We feel it due to ourselves — it was due to our weeping 
fellow citizens — it was due to the world to collect all th» 
lights which might serve to elucidate an event whos» 
effects are so deeply written on our hearts. We hav« 
seen every person who was behind the scenes, that was 
best able to assist our inquiries — we have heard their 
statements, and after sifting (hem as accurately as pos- 
sible, beg leave to submit the following report to our af- 
flicted citizens : — 

On Thursday night last the pantomine of The Bleeding 
Nun ; or, Jigncs and Raymond, came on for representa- 
tion after the play was over. In the first act, amongst 
other scenes, was the scene of the cottage of Baptist^ 
the robber, whieh was illuminated by a chandelier ap- 
parently hanging from the ceiling. — When the curtain 
fell on the first act and before it rose for the second, this 
chandelier was hoisted from its position among the sce- 
nery above. It was fixed with two wicks to it ; one only 
was lit ; yet, when it was lifted above, this fatal lamp 
was not extinguished. — Here is the first link in the chain 
of our disasters ! The man who raised it, does not deny 
it — but pleads that he did so in consequence of an order 
from some person, whom he supposed authorised to <fi- 



28 

Beet him. The person was behind him ; the voice reached 
him (without his seeing the person) and he does not pre- 
tend positively to recognize him. We have not the most 
distant idea that there was the slightest mischievous in- 
tention in the order or in the act — it was inattention — it 

Was the grossest negligence. The lifter of the lamp 

says, that he was aware of the danger, and remonstrated 
against the act ; yet yielding with too fatal a facility to 
the reiterated orders of a person whom he saw not, but 
supposed authorised to direct him. We east not the 
slightest imputations upon the managers or any of the 
comedians on the stage — their positions at the moment, 
as well as other circumstances, forbid the idea that the 
order ever passed from their lips; yet the act was done. 
The lighted lamp Mas lifted — the torch of destruction 
gleamed at the top of the stage. 

Mr. Rice, the property man of the Theatre, says, 
that he saw the scene was over in which the lamp was 
used; he saw the lamp after it was lifted up; he was 
aware of the danger of its remaining in that position, 
and called to one of the carpenters, three times repeat- 
edly, lower that lamp and bloiv it out. He did not see 
it put out ; for he was drawn by his business to another 
part of the stage. 

Mr. West declares he was passing by to commence 
ihe second act, and saw the lamp up and heard Rice 
give directions to the carpenter to extinguish it. 

Mr. Cook, the regular carpenter, declares that he 
saw the carpenter above alluded to, attempting to let it 
down ; that he has no doubt this attempt was made in 
consequence of the order ; that he saw the cords tangle, 
and the lamp to oscillate several inches from its perpen- 
dicular position. The chandelier above was moved by 
two cords which worked over two pulleys, inserted in a 
•ollar beam of the roof; and the straight line from the 
beam to the lamp was (Mr. C. thinks) 14 or 15 feet. — 
Thus some idea may be had of the degree of oscillation. 

Mr. AndersoDj a performer, says, that he had re- 



21 



marked oven before the represent ation; how unskilfully 
the chandelier hail played; and that an aUeinpt to move 
it had caused it to ride circularly around. 

Mr. Yore (another of the workmen of the machi- 
nery), most conclusively eonlirms this statement. lie 
saw, that in the attempt to lower the lamp, as it >\as 
perched among the. scenery, the carpenter had failed in 
his effort; that he then jerked it and jostled it; that \t 
was thus swerved from its perpendicular attitude, and 
brought into contact with the lower part of one of the 
front scenes. The scene took lire; the flame rose, and 
tapering about it to a point, must have reached the roof, 
which was elevated six or seven feet only above the top 
ef the scene. 

We are assured, that there was not a transparent 
scene hanging; that is, a scene coated with varnish and 
extremely combustible, that there was only one paper 
scene hanging, which Mr. Utt, the prompter, declares, 
was removed six or eight feet behind the lamp. Thirty- 
five scenes were at the moment hanging, exclusive of the 
flies or narrow borders which represent the skies, roofs, 
&c. — and of these thirty-four were canvas paintings; 
which though not extremely combustible on the painted 
side are on the other so well covered with the fibres of 
the hemp as to catch the flame. 

Efforts were made to extinguish the flame. Mr. 
Cook, the carpenter, ascended into the carpenter's gal- 
lery ; but in vain. lie did succeed in letting down some 
of the scenes upon the floor, under an idea that this 
was the surest means of extinguishing the flame ; but he 
eould not distinguish the cords of the scene that was 
then on fire. The roof soon caught, and the sense of 
danger compelled him to fly for his life. 

The committee must now be under the necessity of 
drawing the attention of our fellow citizens, to the 
events which took place in front of the curtain. Mr. 
West states, that immediately on his entering the stage 
to go on with his part, he heard some bustle behind 



25 



the sceaes which he conceived to be a mere fracas— 
the cry of *' fire" then saluted his ears, which gave 
him no serious apprehensions, as he knew that little 
accidents of this description had often taken place: 
that he heard some voices exclaim ** don't be alarmed," 
which exclamation he repeated through a solicitude to 
prevent hurry and confusion : that he had not at that 
moment seen any flakes of fire fall behind the scene : 
but seeing them at length falling from the roof, he 
retired behind the scene and found the whole stage 
enveloped in flames : that he attempted to pull down 
some of the hanging pieces, when, finding it unavailing, 
he attempted to make good his own retreat. 

Mr. Robertson, who was the only performer besides, 
that came before the audience, assured the committee, 
that at the moment when he first discovered the flame, 
it was no longer than his handkerchief; that he repaired 
immediately to the stage, as near the orchestra as he 
could come : " There he conveyed to the audience, not 
wishing to alarm them, by gesticulation, to leave the 
house; that in the act of doing that, he discovered the 
flames moving rapidly, and then he exclaimed, "The 
house (or the Theatre) is on fire ;" that he went directly 
to the stage box where some three or four ladies were 
sitting, entreating them to jump into his arms; that he 
could save them by conveying them through the private 
stage-door ; and that he still entreated, until he found it 
necessary to make his own escape ; that his own retreat 
by the private door was intercepted by the flames; that 
he found it necessary to leap into the stage-box, and join 
the general crowd in the lobby; that he gained one of 
the front windows; assisting in passing out some ten or 
twelve females, but at last found it necessary to throw 
himself out of the window. 

This narrative is due to the exertions of a gentleman 
who first sounded the alarm ; and to whom there are a 
few who have not done that justice which he deserves. — 
Let us now return to the transmission of the fire — where 

B 



26 

i he point of flame readied tlie roof. The roof was 
unfortunately not plastered and eeiled — there was a 
sheathing of plank, pine plank we are told, nailed over 
the rafters: and over these the shingles. The rosin of 
the pine had perhaps oozed out of the plank, through 
the heat of our summer's sun, stood in drops upon it. 
Yet, however this may have been, no sooner did the spire 
of flame reach the roof than it caught. The fire spread 
with a rapidity through this combustible material, un- 
paralleled, certainly never equalled by any of the too nu- 
merous fires whieh have desolated our eity. In four or 
five minutes at least, the whole roof was one sheet of 
ilauie — it burst through the bull's-eye in front — it sought 
tlie windows where the rarefied vapour sought its pas- 
sage; fed by the vast column of air in the hollows of a 
Theatre, fed by the inflammable pannels and pillars of 
the boxes, by the dome of the pit, by the canvas 
ceiling of the lower boxes, until its suffocated victims in 
the front were wrapt in its devouring flame, or pressed 
to death under the smoking ruins of the building. 

Here might we pause in our melancholy task. We 
have traced the conflagration to the fatal lamp, lifted as 
it was lit, then jirked and jostled out of its perpendicu- 
lar position, to the scenery — to the roof; until everj 
thing was enveloped in its fury. But there is one part of 
the subject which though it does not fall strictly within 
the letter of the resolution, or perhaps the line of our 
duty, is xvt too interesting to be passed over. Why this 
fatality? Why have so man}! victims perished on this 
melancholy occasion? It cannot be said that it was the 
combustibility of the building and the rapidity of the 
fire, great as they undoubtedly were, which altogether 
produced this mortality of the species — for we cannot 
believe, if large vomitories had been erected for the pas- 
sage of the crowd, if there had been doors enough to 
admit (hem, that more than one tenth of an audience 
.should have perished on the occasion. 



2? 



AN ORDINANCE 

To amend the Ordinance, entitled "Jin Ordinance con- 
cerning the conjiagration of the Theatre, in the City 
of Richmond. 9 * 

(Passed the 28th Dec. 1811.) 

Whereas, it is represented to the President and 
Common Council of the city of Richmond, in Common. 
Hall assembled, that the remains of their unfortunate 
fellow citizens, who perished in* the conflagration of the 
Theatre, on the night of the twenty-sixth inst. cannot 
with convenience be removed from the spot on which 
they were found, and some of them were so far consumed 
as to fall to ashes — and that it would be more satisfac- 
tory to their relations that they should be inferred on the 
spot where they perished, and that the scite of the Theatre 
should be consecrated as the sacred deposit of their bones 
and ashes. 

Be it therefore ordained by the authority aforesaid, 
That the Committee appointed by the ORDINANCE, 
entitled an Ordinance concerning the conflagration of the 
" Theatre in the city of Richmond,'* instead of burying 
the remains of our fellow citizens in the public burying 
ground, shall cause them to be interred within the area 
formerly included in the Avails of the Theatre : And the 
said Committee is hereby authorised and empowered to 
purchase of the proprietors thereof as soon as may be 
possible, all the ground included within such walls. 

Jlnd he it further ordained, That in addition to the 
duty imposed upon that Committee by the before recited 
Ordinance, they be requested to enclose with suitable 
walls of brick, of the height of five feet at the least, the 
whole of the ground formerly covered by said Theatre; 
and that the Common Hall of the city of Richmond hold 
the funds of the city pledged to defray the expenses of 
purchasing the said area, and of the enclosure thereof, 
to be paid out of any money in the hands of the chamber- 



28 



lain, at the time the said enclosure shall be erected by 
the said Committee, and to be paid by him to their draft 
or drafts. 

This Ordinance shall take effect from the passing 
thereof. 

CCopy.J N. SIIEPPARD, e. c. h. 



INTERMENT OF THE DEAD. 

The arrangements for this melancholy occasion 
could not be completed before .Sunday, and as the place 
of interment had been changed from the church to the 
area where the Theatre stood — to that fatal and devoted 
spot, the funeral procession did not move, as was origi- 
nally contemplated by the Committee, from the Baptist 
meeting house, (near the Theatre, where the relics lay), 
to the church, where the interment was intended to be 
made. 

The mournful procession began at Mr. Ed. Trent's. 
on the main street, where the remains of the unfortunate 
Mrs. Patterson lay. In front, the corpse; then the 
clergy; ladies in carriages: the executive council: di- 
rectors of the bank: members of the legislature; the 
Court of Hustings: common hall; citizens on foot and 
on horseback. Why paint the length and solemnity of 
the line 2 They moved up the main street until they 
struck ihe cross street, leading to the bank: here they 
were joined by the corpse of poor Juliana Harvie, who 
expired at her brother-in-law's, the cashier of the bank; 
they moved up the capitol hill, and at the capitol were 
joined by the bearers of two large mahogany boxes, in 
which were enclosed the ashes and relies of the de- 
ceased. Tiie mournful procession then moved to ••the 
dei d - >l :" and in the centre of the area, where 
ae pit, these precious relies were buried in 

common grave. The service for the dead was read 



29 

by the Rev. Mv. Buchanan. The whole seene dotie*< 
description: — a whole city bathed in tear?! How awful 
the transition on this devoted spot ! a few days since, it 
was the theatre of joy and merriment, animated by the 
sound of music, and the hum of. a delighted multitude. 
It is now a funeral pyre! — the receptacle of the relies of 
our friends ! ! and in a short time a monument will 
stand upon it to point out where their ashes lay! 



REGISTER OF TEE DEAB. 

for addition to the sixty-three persons who were pub- 
lished in our la?t. from the report of the committee: we 
are pained to be compelled to subjoin the fallowing me- 
lancholy list : — 

Perished in the jiames ! — Miss Elvira Coutts: Mrs. 
Picket, [not wife of Mr. G. Picket] : Miss Lin' ; 

Jean Baptiste Roan: Thomas Leeruix: Robert Ferrill, 
a mulatto boy. 

Expired since On Saturday night, Mrs. John Bo- 

sher: and at 11 o'clock on Sunday Bight, Edw. James 
Harvie, esq. in consequence of the injury he received 
in his efforts to save an unfortunate sister from the 
flames ! ! 

fey Xot one life has been lest from Manchester.... 
Mrs. Hatcher has broken a limb. 



THE PLAYLE'' ADDRESS TO THE CITIZENS OE RICH- 
MOND. 

Is the sincerity of afflicted minds, and deeply 
wounded hearts, permit u* to express the anguish which 
we feel for the late dreadful calamity, of which we l,:i- 
not but considei Ives the . cause. From 

a liberal and enlightened community we fear no re- 



50 



proaehcs; but we are conscious that many have too 
much cause to wish they had never known us. To 
their mercy we appeal for forgiveness; not for a crime 
committed, hut for one which could not be prevented. 
Our own loss cannot he estimated but by ourselves : 'tis 
true (with one exception) we have not to lament the loss 
of life; but we have lost our friends, our patrons, our 
property, and in part, our homes. Nor' is this all our 
loss. — In this miserable calamity we find a sentence of 
banishment from your hospitable city. — No more do we 
expect to feel that glow of pleasure which pervades a 
grateful heart, while it receives favours liberally bestow- 
ed. Never again shall we behold that feminine humanity 
which so eagerly displayed itself to soothe the victim of 
disease; and view with exultation, the benevolent who 
foaiered the fatherless, and shed a ray of comfort to the 
departed soul of a dying mother. Here then we cease, 
the eloquence of grief is silence. 

James Rose. William Anderson. 

Hopkins Robertson. Thomas Burke. 

Charles Young. A. Placide. 

Charles Durang. J. W. Green. 

William Twaits. William Clark. 



THE Congress of the United States decreed that, 
all the members of their body should wear crape on the 
left arm, for one month, as a mark of commiseration 
and respect to their fellow citizens who so dreadfully 
suffered by the Jlre at Richmond. We understand a 
sermon was preached in the capitol, (at Washington) 
on Sunday, Dee. 29, to a crowded audience, and with 
great effect, by the Reverend Nicholas Snethcn, chaplain 
to the House of Representatives. — We sincerely wish that 
every minister of religion in the United States would, 
with pious zeal, embrace this opportunity, which the 
providence of the Almighty has put in his power, to call 



31 



upon the people to seek that temper ami practice of 
righteousness which exalteth a nation, and to forsake 
the crooked ways of sin, which are a dishonour to any 
people, especially to Americans who are so favoured 
with civil and religious blessings. 



" In the midst of Life we are in Death." 

Hardly ever was this solemn sentence more dread- 
fully realized, than in the never to he forgotten case of 
extreme distress, which hath spread mourning, lamen- 
tation and woe, through the once gay and thoughtless 
city of Richmond. — If we seriously consider death with 
the eternity of that state into which it immediately in- 
troduces the soul, even where the weary wheels of life 
stand still through age or sickness, and the Christian in 
his peaceful bed, surrounded by the tenderest and dear- 
est relations, quits the stage of life, realizing the truth 
and glory of Christianity, and with hopes blooming with 
immortality takes his last look, and bids his last farewel 
to those he truly loves, and with pious magnanimity cries 
out with good old Simeon, " Lord, now lettest thou thy 
servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen (by 
salvation," even then, with all these blessed soothing 
circumstances it is a solemn thing to die: then, what 
must it be to be torn away bleeding and burning, from 
the bleeding hearts of friends and relatives, left behind* 
O ! how can heart conceive, or tongue express the aw- 
ful anguish created by such a death, by such a parting 2 
none, but God and those who have survived the shock 
of the fire at Richmond ! tremendous as the shock of an 
earthquake, and by far more fatal than all the recent 
shocks which have been felt in our country, from Maine 
to Georgia: truly the judgments of God are abroad in 
the earth ! Europe awfully visited with bloody and un- 
natural wars, and America with storms and tempest* 



32 

fires and earthquakes. " He thai being often reprov- 
od, hardcneth his heart, shall he suddenly destroyed and 
ili-.u without remedy." To die in a Playhouse! to die 

suddenly! to die by the force of fire ! O what a climax 
of melancholy misery is this! but 1 forbear, and sin- 
cerely join the (ens of thousands in America and Europe, 
who will long and deeply deplore the untimely fate of so 
many fellow creatures. From the governor of the stale, 
to the meanest African slave! all were precious, and all 
have left some one to mourn their woeful end — while 
we sympathize with our suffering fellow citizens, we 
cannot withhold our commendation of that prompt fel- 
low feeling displayed in saving the living and burying 
the dead — above all and in all, we rejoice at that Chris- 
tian feeling displayed in the purchase, which converts 
the Playhouse into a Church, and sets up the altar of 
God in the place where, in our judgment, Satan held his 
seat, and we would heartily say to magistrates, mini- 
sters and people, go on and prosper in the work of refor- 
mation and regeneration, until you have the suhstance of 
happiness in the room of the shadow — could our fellow 
creatures who suffered in the burning Theatre speak to 
us from their graves, how would they entreat us to flee 
the forbidden paths of vice and impiety. — O! how would 
they heseech us to prepare to meet our God, to he al- 
ways ready, hecause we know not what a day, what a 
moment, may bring forth — the weak and the wicked, who 
neither fear God nor regard man, may try to laugh to 
scorn such instructions as these ; hut, let them look well 
to their ways, let them return to the paths of wisdom 
and happiness, let them hear the voice of the Almighty, 
now consider this ye that forget God, least he tear yon 
in pieces, and there be none to deliver — let the wicked 
forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts. 
and let him turn to the Lord who will have mercy upon 
him> and to our God who will abundantly pardon. 



33 

OBSERVATIONS 

ON" THEATRICAL PERFORM ANCES, 

"To amuse, says Dr. Johnson, is to entertain with 
tranquillity : to fill with thoughts that entertain the mind 
without distracting it." 

Amusements in which any thing profane or obscene 
is introduced, must of course be unlawful. And on this 
account, among many others, the diversion of the theatre 
may be included. That the holy name of God is fre- 
quently profaned in plays cannot be denied; and that 
many filthy songs, indecent figures and wanton gestures 
are allowed in the theatre is equally certain. This will 
appear plain when it is considered how studious the ac- 
tors and actresses are to do justice, and even more than 
justice, to the luscious scenes of the piece; to give eifect 
to the equivoques by an arch emphasis, and to the oaths 
by a dauntless intonation ; — when to all this is added, 
how many painted strumpets are stuck about the theatre 
in the boxes, the galleries, and the avenues ; and how 
many challenges to prostitution are thrown out in every 
direction : it will, I think, be difficult to imagine places 
better adapted, than the theatres at this moment are, to 
teach the theory and practice of fashionable iniquity. 

Those amusements are unlawful, which, if not in 
themselves absolutely sinful, have a dangerous tendency 
to sin. This will particularly include the diversions of 
the Playhouse. Perhaps it would not be easy to prove 
that all dramatic representations are absolutely unlawful, 
and they were probably originally invented for good pur- 
poses ; yet as they are managed, and as perhaps they can- 
not but be managed to suit the general taste of the world, 
they tend to more evil than almost any other species of 
amusements. For consider 

1. The Company — of whom composed ? Some virtu- 
ous characters, no doubt, are among them. But wba< 

V, 



34 

h vast number of the most vicious and profane ! Is not 
the Playhouse the very exchange for harlots ? I have 
been assured by persons acquainted with tlie methods of 
introducing the fashions in London and Paris, that, in 
order to recommend something new, a prostitute of at- 
tractive appearance is placed in the boxes, habited iu the 
dress intended to be adopted, that the charms of her 
person may recommend it to the gazing spectators. No 
doubt the present prevailing system of Nudism had its 
origin in the Playhouse, and in the person of a prostitute 
or a player: but who could have supposed that such a 
mode of dress, or rather undress, would ever have been 
adopted by virtuous women ? 

Thai my ideas of the evil tendency of the theatre, 
from the character of the people who frequent it, arc not 
singular, I add the following extract: 

" Of the increased prevalence of immoral and vici- 
" ous habits, the theatres exhibit an alarming proof. — 
" Twenty years ago, a prostitute did not dare to shew 
" her face in the lower parts of the house ; and, if in 
** the upper boxes, to which this description of unfortu- 
ft nate women were confined, any tumult or noise was 
** heard, the indignation of the audience, decisively ma- 
" nifested, either produced instantaneous quiet or the 
"expulsion of the offenders. Now alas! how different 
" is the scene! the front boxes of the theatre are almost. 
" exclusively devoted to women of the town. The lob- 
" hies swarm with them; they occupy every part of the 
" house, with the solitary exception of the side boxes, 
" and the iirst circle. The rooms intended for the pur- 
" poses of refreshment are like the shew-rooms of a bag- 
" nio, and it is next to impossible for a virtuous woman 
" to walk from her box to her carriage without having 
" her eyes offended, and her ears shocked, by the most 
" indecent gestures, and (he most obscene language. — 
" And in this most profligate exhibition, the young men 
" are as bad, if not worse than the women. At a sum- 
" mer theatre we have seen the performance absolutely 



35 

" stopped by the noise of these male and female prosti- 
" tutes, and the front boxes rendered the scene of actions 
" fit only for a brothel. When such gross violations of 
(( decency and decorum are publicly tolerated, woeful 
" indeed must be the depravity of public manners !" 

Is there a loose, debauched, depraved, ungodly man 
or woman, who, generally speaking, does not frequent 
the theatre? It is the resort of the most worthless cha- 
racters in existence ; it is properly the Flesh-Market* 
of the city ; it is the temple in which the world's trinity 
reside and are adored — " the lust of the flesh, the lust 
of the eye, and the pride of life." 

2. The Players — generally speaking, who are they ? 
loose, debauched people. There are, doubtless, some ex- 
ceptions, and they excite an agreeable surprise when 
they are discovered. But surely players in general, are 
characters with whom it is a disgrace to associate. — 
Whoever goes to the Playhouse, helps to support and 
countenance a set of base people — to encourage the light, 
vain, and wicked branches of decent and worthy families 
to desert the honourable walks of life, for a profession 
that is generally ruinous to themselves and to many 
others. It is much to be regretted that in some fashi- 
onable boarding schools, dramatic representations form 
a part of juvenile — of female education ! Is this " train- 
ing up children in the way that they should go ?" Let 
religious, let moral parents determine. 

3. The Plays. What is the substance of these com- 
positions ? Do they not generally consist of " love in- 
trigues, blasphemous passions, profane discourses, lewd 
descriptions, filthy jests, and of all the most extravagant 
rant of wanton, profligate persons of both sexes, heating 
and inflaming one another with all the wantonness of ad- 
dress, the immodesty of gesture, and lewdness of thought 
that art can invent." And can these form an amuse- 

* The publisher has) been informed, that this is the precise term by which the passage 
Behind the boxes h distinguished--" the Flesh-market." 



36 

incut lawful for Christians ? Or is it lawful to pay peo- 
ple for swearing and acting obscenely ? 

It is, indeed, pleaded by the advocates of the theatre, 
that dramatic performances abound with excellent sen- 
timents, line thoughts, beautiful poetry, affecting elo- 
quence ; that the cause of virtue is pleaded, folly is 
lashed, and vice discountenanced. That some good mo- 
pals are occasionally recommended, and some vicious 
practices reproved, must be admitted. But is this the 
general tendency of theatrical performances? Is it not 
far more common for the hero of the play, to be some 
gay, dissipated character, wallowing in all manner of 
sin, yet recommended to the audience by the noble frank- 
ness of his disposition, the generosity of his temper, or 
what they call, in the cant of the world, "the goodness 
of his heart;" — a pleasing rake, recommending himself 
to youthful minds by the charms of wit, and reconciling 
the female spectator to similar characters in common 
life, and perhaps to a permanent connexion with such an 
one, to the utter destruction of all domestic happiness. 

As to the good to he gotten at plays, hear what Dr. 
Watts says, "This is to plunge headlong into the sea, 
that I may wash off a little dirt from my coat ; or to 
venture on poison, in order to cure a pimple." 

i. The interludes, the dances, the scenery, and the 
music. What is the tendency of all these ? Supposing 
the tragedy or the comedy itself to be moral, a supposi- 
tion seldom, if ever, admissible, those gay accompani- 
ments are calculated to dissipate the mind, to endear to 
the heart the vanities of the world, to render the ordina- 
ry business of life insipid, and the rules of virtue and 
religion irksome and disgusting. It is a general rule at 
the theatre, that a serious play should be followed by a 
ludicrous farce, on purpose to efface any moral impres- 
sions that may happen to be made. 

These views of the dangerous tendency of theatrical 
iimusements are by no means new or singular; they ar# 



37 

&uch as wise and good men in different ages have enter- 
tained. In confirmation of this assertion, read a few 
passages extracted from various authors, and 

First, from heathen writers. I begin with Plato, 
who says, "Plays raise the passions, and pervert the use 
of them, and by consequence are dangerous to morality; 
for tills reason lie banishes them from his common- 
wealth." 

Xenophon, a man of letters, and a general, com- 
mending the Persians for the discipline of their educa- 
tion, says, "They will not so much as suffer their youth 
to hear any thing that is amorous or tawdry; they were 
afraid that want of ballast might make them miscarry, 
and that it was dangerous to add any thing to the bias 
of nature." 

Livy reports the origin of plays among the Romans. 
"They were introduced on the score of religion, to pa- 
cify the gods, and to remove a pestilence :" but he adds, 
"the motives are sometimes good, when the means are 
abominable : the remedy in this case was worse than the 
disease, and the atonement more infectious than the 
plague." Valerius Maximus confirms this account 
of them, and says, " they were the occasions of civil 
distraction; and that the state first blushed, and then 
bled for the entertainment." 

Seneca complains of the debauchery of the age in 
which he lived, and that few persons would apply them- 
selves to the study of morality, except when the Play- 
house was shut up : that there were none to teach phi- 
losophy, because there were none to learn it; but that 
the stage had company enough, and that by such means 
vice made an insensible approach, and stole on the peo- 
ple under the disguise of pleasure. 

Tacitus observes that " the German ladies were 
defended from danger, and preserved their honour, by 
having no Playhouse among them." The case is al- 
tered now, and the " seducing dramas of Germany" are 



38 



imported into Great Britain and the United States, for 
the improvement of the ladies. 

The looser poets were fully aware of the tendencies 
of theatrical amusements. Ovid directs his pupil to 
the Playhouse, as the most eligible place for his pur- 
pose ; and in his Remedy of Ijotc, forbids the Playhouse, 
as likely to feed the distemper and occasion a relapse. 

Admitting, as in candour we ought, that the theatri- 
cal exhibitions of pagans, were in some instances more 
immoral than ours ; yet, these strong testimonies of 
heathens against the stage, as dangerous to the cause of 
virtue, ought to have great weight with us who "pro- 
fess and call ourselves Christians." If their natural 
light discovered such danger in the Playhouse, surely 
the splendid beams of the holy gospel must discover in- 
finitely more, and oblige us to have no "fellowship with 
the unfruitful works of darkness." 

Secondly. Let us next consult the opinion of Legisla- 
tors, and see how plays have been discouraged or re- 
stained by the State. 

The Athenians deemed a comedy so disreputable 
a performance, that their law forbade any judge of the 
Areopagus to compose one. 

The Lacedemonians would not suffer the stage in 
any form, or under any regulations whatever. 

The Romans, in their better times, counted the 
stage, so disgraceful, that if a Roman became an actor, 
he was degraded and disfranchised by the censors. 

In England, an act of parliament was made in the 
reign of queen Elizabeth, denominating players — 
" rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars;" and in the 
year 15S0, a petition was presented to her majesty to 
suppress all Playhouses in the city of London, which was 
accordingly effected; and, to the honour of the corpora- 
tion, theatres have never since beeri suffered within their 
jurisdiction. 

The first theatrical essays in London were made by 
the company of parish clerks at Skinner's Well, near 



39 



Glerkenwell-Green, who for eight successive days per- 
formed a play representing the creation of the world; 
these scripture plays were also imitated in other parts 
of the kingdom, and were intended for the instruction of 
the common people. The first Playhouse in London was 
situate between Whitecross-street and Golden-lane; the 
spot is still called Playhouse-yard. Another was after- 
wards erected in Graceehurch-street, and at length 
others in Goodman's-iields; Dorset-street, near Salis- 
bury-court; Drury-lane; Covent-garden ; Hay-market, 
and Little Lincoln's-inn-fields : but queen Elizabeth 
"thrust the players out of the city, and the Playhouses 
in Graeeehurch-street, &c. were quite put down and 
suppressed." 

About six years ago, the royalty theatre, near Well- 
close-square, was again permitted to be opened. Against 
this haunt of dissipation and debauchery, the Rev. John 
Thirlwall entered his solemn protest in a well written 
pamphlet, wherein he also reprobated some of the fa- 
vourite dramas of the other London theatres. The fol- 
lowing paragraph is worthy of particular notice. 

" They are calculated to corrupt the morals, and 
(i instil the most dangerous and criminal maxims. Did 
" we wish to root up every religious and moral princi- 
" pie from the heart; to tempt our daughters to barter 
" away the brightest jewel of their sex; to inflame the 
(i passions of our sons, and abandon them to their law- 
** less empire : did we wish our children to become fa- 
" miliar with crime ; to blunt and deaden those delicate 
" sensibilities which shrink at the touch of vice : did we 
" wish to harden and inure them to scenes of blasphemy, 
" cruelty, revenge, and prostitution, we would invite 
" them to the sight of the most popular plays which are 
** now performed on our stage ; we would send them for 
*' instruction to the German school, where, by the most 
(e subtle and malicious contrivance, vice is decked out in 
" the air of virtue, and the deluded youth is seduced to 
6i the road of ruin, while he believes that he indulges in 



40 

'* the noblest feelings of his nature ; where a casual act 
'* of generosity is applauded, m liilst obvious and eom- 
« manded duties are trampled on, — and a lit of charity 
" is made the sponge of every sin., and the substitute of 
" every virtue. We would invite them to the plays of 
" Pizarro* the Stranger, and John Bully where the spu- 
" rious virtues are blazon out, and the genuine arc 
" thrown in the back ground and degraded. In the one 
u is a bold and sentimental strumpet, whom the passions 
" of lust and jealousy prompt to follow the adventures of 
'* her paramour. In the other an adulteress, who had. 
" forsaken her amiable husband, and lived in criminal 
'* commerce with her seducer. In the last is a daughter 
" of an humble tradesman; she suffers herself to be se- 
" duced by the son of a baronet, flies from the roof of 
" her fond and most affectionate father, and afterwards 
" is united in marriage to the despoiler of her virtue.... 
" And, to the shame and disgrace of the stage, and the 
i( age we live in, these three ladies are the prominent 
" characters of the respective pieces., and instead of 
" being held up as instructive warnings to others, are 
" contrived to be made the objects of our sympathy 
" esteem, and admiration." 

Thirdly. Let us now advert to the sentiments of 
Christian church in all ages. 

By the council of Collioure, in Spain, Ann. 305, 
it was declared unlawful for any woman, in full commu- 
nion, to marry a player on pain of excommunication. 

The first council of Arles, in 311, excommunicated 
all players. 

The third council of Carthage forbids the sons 
of clergymen to be present at plays — " such sort of 
'pagan entertainments being forbidden all the laity: — 
It being always unlawful for Christians to come among 
blasphemers." 

The second council of Ciialox ordains — " that all 
clergymen ought to abstain from all over-engag^ag en- 
tertainments in music or show? and as for the smutty 



41 



Stud licentious insolence of players and buffoons let them 
not only decline the heading it themselves, but likewise 
co! chicle the laity obliged io the same conduct." 

Tkrtuxlian, the famous apologist for Christianity, 
who lived in the second century, wrote a book on purpose 
to dissuade the Christians from the public diversions of 
th heathen, of which the Playhouse was one: he re- 
mi them that ** the tenor of their faith, the reason of 
pr -5e, and the order of discipline had barred them 
frc Lhe entertainments of the town." 

We have nothing to do with the phrenzies of the 
ra -ground, the lewdness of the theatre, or the bar- 
barl of the bear-garden/' Will you not then avoid 
this seat of infection? The very air suffers by their 
impurities, and they almost' pronounce the plague. What 
though the performance may be in some measure pretty 
and entertaining? What though innocence, yea, and 
virtue too, shi through some part of it? It is not 
the custom to prepare poison unpalatably : No. To have 
the mischief spread, they must oblige the sense, and 
make the dose pleasant. Thus the devil throws in a 
cordial drop to snake the draught go down, and steals 
seme few ingredients from the dispensatory of heaven. 
In short look upon all the engaging sentences of the 
stage, their flights of fortitude and philosophy, the lof- 
tiness of their style, the music of the cadence, and the 
fineness of the conduct — as honey dropping from the 
bowels of a toad, or the bag of a spider. 

It is pretended by some persons that lessons may be 
learned at a Playhouse : a good writer makes the fol- 
lowing reply : 

" Granting your supposition, your inference is bad. 
Do people use to send their daughters to the brothels for 
discipline ? and yet probably they might find some there 
lamenting their debauchery. No man will breed his son 
among highwaymen to harden his courage. Nor will 
any one go on board a leaky vessel to learn the art of 



42 

shifting in a shipwreck. My conclusion is, let no one g« 
to the infamous Playhouse: a place of such direct con- 
tradiction to the strictness and sobriety of religion: a 
place hated by God, and haunted hy the devil. (" At the 
••royalty theatre the play-bill exhibits in large capitals, 
"The Great Devil, and a principal character is 
" termed Sat ana. At the opera house they make the 
" place of torments a subject of scenic representation. &c. 
" Don Juan and the ballets on the vigil of the Sabbath.*') 
Let no man, I say, learn to relish any thing that is said 
there, for it is all but poison handsomely prepared." 

I shall now add the testimony only of a more modern 
divine, generally esteemed moderate and gentle, I mean 
archbishop Tillotson, who says — 

" I shall now speak a word concerning plays, which 
as they are now ordered amongst us, are a mighty re- 
proaclHo the age and nation. — As now the stage is, I hey 
are intolerable, and notMit to be permitted in a civilized^ 
much less a Christian nation. They do most notoriously 
minister to infidelity aud vice. And therefore 1 do not 
see how any person pretending to sobriety aud virtue, 
and especially to the pure and holy religion of our bles- 
sed Saviour, can, without great guilt and open contradic- 
tion so his holy profession, be present at such lewd and 
immodest plays, as too many are who would take it very 
ill to be shut out of the community of Christians, as they 
would most certainly have been in the first and purest 
ages of Christianity.** 

This same moderate churchman calls the Playhouse, 
" The Devil's chapel, and the school and nursery of 
lewdness and vice;" and speaking of parents who take 
their children there, he calls them, "Monsters — I had 
almost said Devils." 

Nor are these the sentiments of Divines only. Legis- 
lators, and magistrates, whose office has given them an 
opportunity to observe the origin and progress of vice, 
have held the theatre in the same abhorrence : Judge 
Bulstrode particularly, in his charge to the grand 



43 

jury of Middlesex, uses these strong and memorable 
words : — 

" One play-house ruins more souls than fifty 
churches can save." 

Such are the testimonies of wise and good men of 
different ages and countries concerning this species of 
amusement, all uniting to prove that their tendency is 
dangerous in the extreme. May we learn from their 
wisdom, and improve by the passing circumstances 
around us. 



FROM THE VIRGINIA ARGUS. 

Profaneness inconsistent with Politeness* 

The practice of common cursing and swearing has 
often been proved to be full of impiety. It is an insult 
to the majesty of God. the consequences of which will 
one day make the guilty tremble. 

This practice has also been represented as striking 
at the vital interests of society, by diminishing the ob- 
stacles in the way to perjury. I apprehend there is 
something in this far more serious than empty specu- 
lation. Why are oaths used at inductions into office ? 
Why are they imposed upon witnesses in the administra- 
tion of justice? Is it not to bind men to their duty by 
the solemnity of an appeal to God, the searcher, and the 
judge of all hearts? And has not the practice of com- 
mon cursing and swearing an inevitable tendency to ren- 
der the heart less sensible to the force of such an appeal. 

But I request the reader's particular attention to 
another view, and a view seldom taken of this practice. 
It is contrary to politeness ; directly and strongly con- 
trary to the principles and manners of a gentleman. 
The charge may appear strange at first sight ; but I un- 
dertake to make it good. 



u 

1 take it for granted that every just account of the 
nature of politeness must include the standing rule 
never to give unnecessary offence to any individual of 
one's company. Now a company is rarely collected with- 
out including some to whom profane language is offensive. 
It is always possible, and a delicate mind will always 
remember it to be supposable, that there may he such, 
persons in company, until the contrary has been ascer- 
tained. To the pious man, whose heart glows with love 
and veneration towards God, it is inexpressibly shocking 
to hear the sacred name of his Creator and his father 
sported with as an idle expletive of discourse, and his 
curses invoked either in the heat of passion or the wan- 
tonness of levity. Such conduct cannot fail to give pain 
to every human being who retains any share of reverence 
for the sovereign of heaven and earth. Should the 
swearer assert that all this is mere fanaticism, which he 
is not bound to respect in his manner of speaking; J an- 
swer, he may as well pretend that his having the honour 
and happiness of being an atheist entitles him to spit in 
the face of every man who believes there is a God. lie 
may show that he is totally indifferent to our feelings, 
or that he even finds gratilieation iu giving us uain. 
From either of these sources he may think it no small 
amusement to wound us severely by spitting in our faces, 
or by profaning the name of our God. Bui in the mean 
lime, what becomes of his character as a gentleman ? 

I laid it down as the principle of a gentleman, to 
avoici giving unnecessary offence. Arc cursing and 
swearing in conversation necessary things? Whal good, 
end do they answer ? Will profane language increase she 
wealth of him who uses it? "Will it preserve his body 
from the assaults of disease? Will it supply the defi- 
ciency of his understanding or his knowledge? Is it re- 
quisite to confirm the word of a man of, veracity? Mill 
it make us believe the declarations of one whose veracity 
is doubtful? It is wasting time to dwell on this point, 

tore 



<k lan- 
gua.t, 1 never found 

an instance in which it subserved any good purpose what- 
ever. The practice inflicts torture upon every sober ear ; 
and that without the least extenuating plea of necessity 
or advantage. 

Profane swearers sometimes condescend to excuse 
themselves by saying that they spoke without thought. 
I reply, a man of refined politeness does think. He 
thinks carefully, and habitually too, that he may avoid 
hurting the feelings of his company. In point of sense 
he who says that he spoke without thought avows that 
he spoke as a fool. And in point of politeness, he who 
pleads that he did not consider what he was saying, ac- 
knowledges, by the very plea, that he has acted a part, 
in this instance, diced ly opposite to that of a gentleman. 

But suppose it to be a fact ascertained that none of 
the company will be offended by profane language : how 
does it violate the rule of politeness in these circum- 
stances ? Well ; let the swearer take this for a case in 
his 'favour, and make the most of it. He is not at pre- 
sent inflicting pain upon his companions, for they are as 
impiously callous to this kind of pain as himself. He is 
only provoking? with a high hand, the vengeance of God 
Almighty, and strengthening in himself and others a 
habit calculated to outrage the feelings of serious people 
at some future hour. 

I think my proposition is demonstrated. And how 
can this simple reasoning be refuted? Suppose now 
that on taking my seat, as a stranger, in the stage-coach, 
or at a public dining-table, my ears arc immediately and 
almost incessantly assailed with profane oaths and 
curses: what idea shall I reasonably form concerning 
the man who makes these unprovoked and violent at- 
tacks upon my peace? lie may wear a fine coat, and 



nounce » , ^. .v^iings and be- 

haviour of a gentleman, 

PENEVOLUS. 



THE ENB. 



J. KINGSTON, 

At his Book and Stationary Store, alwaijs keeps an ea?- 
cellent assortment of Family, Closet, and School 
Bibles. 

ALSO 

Blair's, Davis', Saurin's, Watts', Stillman's, Dod- 
dridge's, Ewing's, and Erskine's Sermons. — Prayer 
Books in plain and elegant bindings. 

Subscriptions are received for Br. Mam Clarke's Bi- 
ble, with Commentary. 

also, 

Dr. Thomas Scott's Bible, with Commentary. 
M'Knight on the Epistles — 6 vols. 8vo. 
Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered — 2 vols. 8vo. 
Rol'in's Ancient History — 8vo. elegant. 
Gibbon's Roman Empire — 8 vols. Svo. elegant. 

With a great variety of Biography, Classics, Histories, 
and School Books, &c. &c. 



At the binders, and will be ready in a few days "Practi- 
cal Piety," two vols, in one, handsome 12mo. with 
Miss More's Life. — Price one dollar, bound and let- 
tered. 



J. Kingston 

Intends printing with all convenient speed — 

The Elements of a Polite Education — carefully selected 
from the Letters of the late Right Honorable Philip 

Dormer Stanhope, earl of Chesterfield, to his son 

By George Gregory, D. D. late >icar of Westham, 



48 



and domestic chaplain to (fee bishop of LandafF &c 

&»; Author of Essays, ]j • . of 

the Economy of Nature; Letters on Luc-alare, 
laste, and Composition, &o. <Ve. 

"No book by the hand of a master has hitherto an. 
peared to surpass, in the same specie. of excellence, the 
fetters of Chesterfield; and to supercede all necessity for 
their use in education. It has therefore been Cor many 
years the earnest desire of parents, teachers, the well- 
wishers of youth in general, and the friends to the me- 
mory of Chesterfield, to see these letters purified from 
all that seemed to hint disrespect for virtue, or favour 
for vice. This task is at last executed by Dr. GRE- 
GORY with singular judgment and taste. This tast 
was a humble one for a man of his distinction in litera- 
ture to undertake, but it was rewarded by the conscious- 
ness ol Usefulness and virtue. Those • aren.s ami 
teachers will be greatly deficient in th<i.- duty who fail 
to recommend this book to the perusal of the young per- 

sons whose education they direct." 

History of Literature. 

Also to Publish 

Vacation Evenings, a recent London work of great 
otriifrfor schools, & e _ B y Catherine Bayley, widow 
of a British staff officer. 






